


Impromptu

by deathwailart



Series: Damhnait Mahariel [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Dalish Origin, F/M, Fluff, Headcanon, Pre-Canon, Skinny Dipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 09:25:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2062779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathwailart/pseuds/deathwailart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damhnait's spur of the moment decisions don't always end badly for Tamlen.</p>
<p>Written for the 30 day drabble challenge: impromptu</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impromptu

They've moved on once again when the shems started to make noise about the damned knife ears, blaming them for a string of thefts invented or carried out by the elves in their own town or by other humans. Everyone is used to it by now although Damhnait liked moving on better when she was little and Ashalle or another elder would carry her when her feet tired or when she would be swaddled up tight in an aravel, often with something to amuse her so they could all make good speed without the burden of a child on their shoulders or back. Now she has to walk even when her legs begin to cramp and she can't remember how her feet felt before, when she had smooth soles that cracked and bled and felt every blade of grass. They're leathery and hard, a sign of pride amongst them and she can have blisters without realising it. They march until it's dark and eat a tasteless but filling meal, trading watch until they rise at first light, eat the same meal and keep going.  
  
This is what their ancestors did. The long marches where many died, carrying all of their history and culture with them.  
  
It's probably easier now when there's so little left.  
  
The only thing that's better about moving when they're older is that they're no longer made to stay in the camp to help scrub pots and cook dinner or do the fetching of things to keep them out of trouble. Their faces bear no Vallaslin yet but they're recognised as hunters now, Damhnait and Tamlen and under the watch of some of their fellow hunters, they're allowed to explore the area surrounding camp to make sure it's safe for the night. The forest knows the Dalish well – this was their land once, every inch of it, their people walked it when they were ageless as the stars – and sometimes wolves and bears will sniff the air and howl before slinking back. If not then pelts are always welcome and Damhnait has been stringing a fine necklace for Ashalle of teeth and bone, carving little symbols into them to keep her safe from harm and so she knows that Damhnait loves her. Other times there are sylvans where the Veil is very thin and she confesses that she's jealous of those with magic who can understand it better and have a closer tie to their ancestors.  
  
Normally she and Tamlen are inseparable but they're made to split into different groups because otherwise they'll apparently run off and get nothing done (a charge they both accept privately and deny loudly to anyone who'll listen) although she doesn't mind too much. Sometimes it's more fun to be with the other women hunters because they'll talk about things they won't usually bring up with the men, different jokes and she's learned plenty of remedies for maladies the men don't deal with and a lot about her own body. And about male bodies that Tamlen definitely appreciated though she assumes it must be the same for the men because he's no slouch in surprising her either. Today is a good day to be parted though because they come across a stream the wild animals drink from, crystal clear and cold though they're all used to that. What has her grinning all the way back and through dinner is the fact that the water in the stream travels down from a waterfall that feeds into a deep pool, large enough for a little swimming and with a large flat rock that's been worn smooth by time. Tamlen keeps shooting her looks but she ignores them, changing the subject or teasing Fenarel about the girl he's been mooning over and the fact that he spent more time staring at her backside on their journey than his feet that she lost track of how many times he fell over.  
  
It's only after dinner and when the Keeper has listened to their reports that they're safe enough for now that she steals Tamlen away with a pack slung over her shoulder.  
  
"Damhnait," Tamlen asks as she leads him deeper into the forest, "lethallan, where are we going?"  
  
"It's a surprise."  
  
"You keep say-" he stumbles over a root and clatters into her and she starts laughing. "Did you get into the wine?"  
  
"Like Ashalle would let me, she only gives me a sip during celebrations, like I'm still a child."  
  
"I think it's more to do with that time we all-"  
  
"Don't remind me," she groans, "I still feel sick whenever someone brings it up."  
  
"I still can't believe you threw up over Paivel."  
  
"He made me help him for a month. A whole _month_ and it wasn't even my idea to steal that wine in the first place."  
  
"I made up for it," Tamlen replies smugly and she has to give him that as she draws them to a halt and lets go of him so she can cover his eyes. "Damhnait..."  
  
"Nothing bad, I promise. Don't you trust me?"  
  
"I trust you to get us both in trouble." She laughs at his grumbling and nudges the back of his knee with hers. "But I trust you to get me back out of it too."  
  
"Ma'arlath," she whispers, suddenly shy and she can feel the heat of his blush even as he repeats the word back at her.  
  
Endearments always come in their own tongue, words for them and the wilds, an agreement they came to the first time she kissed him after a furious wrestling match.  
  
It doesn't take long to get to the pool and she slings the pack to near the water's edge as Tamlen stares in awe, too awestruck it seems to notice that she's undressing behind him until she's set her armour and weapons down to stand bare before him, still shy even though she has no need to be until he goes bright pink to the tips of his ears and starts stammering.  
  
"Race you," she says, rushing to the water and leaping in and shrieking as the cold water hits her skin, a thousand angry needles stinging her skin until she surfaces, tossing her wet hair back. Tamlen is slipping in slowly by then, wading his way towards her.  
  
"You look cold," he says before she can make some teasing remark, pulling her close and his chest is still so warm that she melts against him.  
  
"Maybe you should do something about that," she answers, feeling him shiver as she traces her hands up his sides and over his shoulders.  
  
"I can do that," he agrees and bends to kiss her.


End file.
